


L'Chaim

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Gerard Way and the Hormones, My Chemical Romance, frnkiero andthe cellabration
Genre: Biting, Bruises, Chronic Illness, Complete, Established Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, One Shot, POV Third Person Limited, Rating: PG13, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 01:55:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3792250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank can't get any more tattoos for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	L'Chaim

**Author's Note:**

> L'Chaim is a common Jewish (Yiddish/Hebrew) term that is often said while toasting. More than just meaning, "cheers!" it directly translates as, "To life!"
> 
> Thanks to akamine_chan for beta help.
> 
> This inadvertently filled the prompt that I left at the April, 2015 round of the Bandom_meme. I asked for Frank/Gerard, long distance relationship.

Looking at the angry red lines emanating from the tattoo on his inner thigh, Frank almost feels like he’s in a trance when he hears himself say. “Maybe that’s just one too many tattoos.” This thought strikes him as funny and he snorts out a laugh that immediately turns into a cough. “I was proud of breaking my old record for how many tattoos I could get in one year, but maybe I’ve been pushing my luck.”

“You know, Frank, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to lay off for a while,” Dr. Brooks says. “I know it doesn’t seem related to all your other health issues, but your immune system is not the strongest even at the best of times.” 

Frank’s head shoots up. He suddenly wishes so hard that he hadn’t said anything. “For how long? I mean, I know I just got this one, but…” Frank shakes his head sadly. “I just love them so much…” he trails off. 

Dr. Brooks waves her hand in a dismissive motion. “It isn’t ‘doctor’s orders’ or anything like that. I know you love them. Do what you need to do, but you do tend to be pretty good at pushing your luck. I’m amazed you haven’t had more of them get infected.” 

Frank tries not to think about the handful of tattoos he’s had get infected on tour that Dr. Brooks knows nothing about. “It’s really that bad?” He looks at the tattoo again and knows the answer, it’s so red and swollen. He still feels like the infection came out of nowhere. It was fine a couple of days ago. He’s just terrible about keeping it protected. It’s been so hot, he’s been wearing shorts a lot. 

“It’s worse than the last one was.” Dr. Brooks is about to say more when Frank breaks into another coughing fit. She waits until he’s finished before changing the subject and saying, “I’m afraid this is going to be one of those stubborn coughs.”

Frank sighs as Dr. Brooks goes over to her computer to send his prescriptions to the pharmacy. He isn’t actually able to sigh, though, because of course he starts wheezing, and then coughing again. When he’s finally able to speak, he can’t help but complain, “I’m not even actually sick anymore. I feel fine.” 

“Tell that to your lungs.” Dr. Brooks turns toward him again. “So, prednisone and another round of the cipro. I’m sending a refill for the albuterol and erythromycin gel for the tattoo.”

Frank manages to remember not to sigh this time. “Thanks,” is all he manages to get out. He’s used to all of this by now, but it never really sucks any less.

“So, rest. Lots and lots of rest.” Dr. Brooks puts her hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently. “You’ve only been back for a few weeks after touring for months. You have to give your body a chance to recover.”

“I know.”

“And really, Frank. I do think it would be a good idea to lay off the tattoos for a while. You’re immunocompromised right now. You need to be gentle with your body for a bit.” 

Frank nods and shakes Dr. Brooks hand before he leaves. He loves his doctor. She’s known him for years and he wouldn’t dream of seeing anyone else. His favorite thing about her is her complete honesty. And for some reason, Frank has always felt like he could tell her anything. He figures that’s why he mused out loud about maybe getting too many tattoos too quickly. It’s weird, though, because he doesn’t remember ever actually thinking that before. He shakes his head at himself as he walks out to the car. The seat is hot and sticky when he gets in and he’s sweating within seconds. He cranks the A/C on the drive to the pharmacy, dutifully picking up everything Dr. brooks prescribed. She does take good care of him. 

When he gets home, after he showers, he takes care to cover his tattoo with the antibiotic gel and let it air-dry. He’s used this gel before. It always leaves a little clear film over the tattoo that peels off later. It’s kind of gross but it works really quickly. He sits down on the couch to read and when he makes the mistake of lying down, the cough returns with a vengeance. It’s so violent, he almost throws up. 

This really, really fucking sucks. 

*_*_*

A few weeks later Frank’s playing a small show with The Cellabration, Science and another local band. It’s a lot of fun for Evan, playing with both The Cellabration and Science. It’s awesome for him, getting to have both of his current projects at the same show. 

Frank’s cough has finally calmed down enough that he can sing and his tattoo is totally healed. He’s wearing pants and he can’t even really feel the fabric against the tattoo anymore. It just feels like normal skin. He gets pretty crazy during the show, jumping and whirling around and bumping into the other guys on purpose. He throws himself further into the crowd than he normally does during _Sunsets_ because he needs to feel the fans. Their hands on him, grabbing and holding on as though they need to feel him to know he’s really real. His body gets pinched and twisted and sometimes it hurts. The first hint of pain always gives him such an adrenaline rush, especially when he’s performing. He hopes he has bruises at the end of the night, or a scratch or cut somewhere. Something. 

Because he’s missed that feeling - the feeling of something healing. He loves having a wound or an injury of some kind that isn’t quite better yet. Like when he has a bruise on his arm or somewhere and he can just poke at it and it aches, but it’s not intolerable. It’s how he’s always felt when he’s all beat-up after crazy shows - cuts and bruises and welts everywhere. The feeling of his body slowly healing is like proof that he’s done something. It’s proof that he’s living his life. It feels like a badge of honor. That’s how his tattoos make him feel. They tell his story. Everything he’s done is all right there for him to see and remember. It’s all the most important things. He loves them. He wants more. 

*_*_*

“You’re gonna run out of canvas soon.”

Frank giggles at the feel of Gerard’s fingers sliding up his spine as he traces over the tattoos on his back. “Not true, I still have space. I just need to get smaller pieces.”

“Uhuh, sure, because you’re always so good at restraining yourself.” Gee’s voice drips with sarcasm. “Where’s the one that got so infected. How is it now?”

Frank turns so that Gerard can see the flower on his inner thigh. “It’s fine now. It looks good, right?”

“It’s beautiful.” Gerard leans down and kisses the tattoo gently. When he sits up, he has the most serene expression on his face. 

“C’mere,” Frank says, as he reaches his arms out for Gerard to lie down with him. “I love this. Love being with you like this.” 

“Mmmm, me too.” Gerard rests his head on Frank’s chest, his fingers trace over the lines of ink on Frank’s belly. It almost tickles, but mostly it just feels… nice. Frank can’t remember the last time that he and Gee actually had time to just relax with each other like this. They’ve both been so crazy busy over the last year, finding time to see each other at all has been an interesting and cruel challenge. Hotels, airports, layovers, a night in LA, a couple of hours in New York. Or just… nothing, for months at a time. Frank doesn’t want to think about that. He wants to think about now and how Gerard has started tracing the lines of ink with his tongue instead of his fingers. 

They have right now. They had yesterday. And they have tomorrow. Two full days and three nights. Frank isn’t sure how long it’s been since they’ve had this much time together. “I’ve missed this,” slips out before he’s able to stop. He tries so hard not to say things like that because they both agreed that they needed space. They needed distance. They needed to focus on themselves. It was the right decision for both of them, but it’s still hard. 

Gerard’s kiss is sudden and deep and Frank isn’t ready for it, too lost in his thoughts. “I’ve missed your taste.” The words are practically swallowed up as Gerard moves to lick at Frank’s neck and ear before tugging at the lobe with his teeth. 

“I need,” Frank gasps out, not sure what he needs at all. 

Gerard pulls back just enough to look into Frank’s eyes. Frank loves how clear Gerard’s eyes are now. No drug addled-haze, no maniacal gleam, just Gerard - completely present and in the moment. Frank wouldn’t trade this for anything. “What do you need?” he asks quietly. 

Frank twirls a few strands of Gerard’s hair through his fingers. He loves it black again like this… like it was in the beginning. He thinks about himself back then, his ridiculous hair - blond, dreadlocked, he was so ridiculous. He thinks about having so much skin, unmarked and clean. He thought he’d be eighty before he’d be able to cover it all. He never could have imagined… “I can’t get any more tattoos for a while.” 

Gerard pulls back slightly, putting a hand on Frank’s cheek, “Why?”

Frank shrugs as if it isn’t a big deal even though he knows Gerard will see right through that. “I had a couple of bad reactions. I’m still on some heavy meds.” He waves his hand vaguely over his whole body. “My stupid immune system.” 

“That sucks so much.” Gerard gets it. He knows what Frank’s tattoos mean to him and Frank’s suddenly really glad he told Gerard about it. He realizes he hasn’t been telling Gerard enough stuff like this lately. He should be. There was a while where they hardly talked at all, but things have been really good lately. Frank can remember a time when Gerard would have been the first person he called to bitch to after that doctor appointment. He wants to have that again - wants it to be that easy between them. He thinks they can do that again now, they’re both finally ready. 

“Yeah,” Frank replies. “But it’s not forever. Just for a while. And like you said, I don’t have a ton of space left.” 

Gerard looks at Frank strangely for a few seconds before he asks, “What is it that you miss most about it?”

“The way it feels,” Frank answers easily. “When it’s healing, especially. The way the skin prickles when it rubs against my clothes.” Frank shivers a little bit just talking about it. “And then of course, the tattoo itself. Being able to see it all the time and think about whatever it’s there to remind me of.” 

“Hmmm,” Gerard hums thoughtfully as he shifts, moving down Frank’s body. He stops to sniff at Frank’s armpit and then, without warning, he bites at the tender skin there. He bites down _hard_ and hangs on. Frank wriggles and writhes on the bed and he feels like his dick is almost instantly hard. When Gerard lets go of Frank’s skin, he’s laughing. “You’ve always been a painslut, Frankie.” Gerard moves to lick over the bite mark but Frank grabs at his head, pulling him back by his hair to look into his eyes. Gerard gasps, but he’s still smiling. “What do you need?”

“I need,” Frank gasps as he pushes his groin up against Gerard, feeling Gerard’s hard-on growing from the rough contact. “I need to you to make me feel. I need you to mark me, wound me, whatever you want. Just, something that will have to heal. Something that will take a long time to heal.” 

“I can do that,” Gerard says, voice deep and husky before he consumes Frank’s mouth in a punishing kiss. It’s not long before he moves down the bed slowly, looking over Frank’s body like it’s a precious treasure he’s just found and now has to decide what to do with. “Where should I start?” 

Frank swallows as he considers. “My arms. I love it when there’s something healing on my arm so that I can feel it every time I play.” He twirls a piece of Gerard’s hair around his finger again. “I wanna think of you every time I play.” 

Gerard nods before turning Frank’s right arm and laying into his bicep. He bites and sucks right over the muscle. It fucking hurts, but it feels amazing. Frank loves it. He feels like he’s falling apart and floating away at the same time. He wonders if Gerard will be able to break the skin. It’s happened before, though never intentionally. 

After leaving five bites on Frank’s right arm, Gerard goes to work on Frank’s left arm. Frank counts three bites there before he stops being able to keep track. He loses count of how many bruises Gerard makes before he fucks Frank so hard he’ll be able to feel it for days. It’s exactly what Frank asked for. It’s everything he needs. While Gerard fucks him, Frank forgets about distance, he forgets about tattoos. He forgets to be melancholy, thinking about the past. He doesn’t really think about much aside from how good Gerard feels thrusting inside him. When he’s coming down from his orgasm, Frank thinks about the healing process and about feeling alive. 

As he falls asleep in Gerard’s arms, he catalogs every part of his body that feels sore. He loves every single ache and pain because they tell him he’s alive. He’s living his life. And he has proof of it.


End file.
